Chapter 11:The Locker Key

**Chapter Eleven: The Locker Key**

Jane's hands were covered in blood.

Not hers.

His.

She crouched beside the lifeless man, heart hammering so loudly she could barely hear the wind swirling around the tombstones.

The tiny silver key he had pressed into her palm glinted in the moonlight, sticky with his blood.

Locker 72. Grand Central.

Who was he? Why did he risk everything to give her that?

Tears blurred her vision. "Why did you come to me? Who were you to my father?" she whispered.

The man didn't answer.

He couldn't.

Footsteps echoed again.

Jane turned sharply, her breath catching.

A shadow slipped behind a row of gravestones. Then another. Two people. Maybe more.

She grabbed the envelope of documents and shoved it into her hoodie, clutching the key tight in her other hand. Her body trembled as adrenaline surged through her veins.

She ran.

Faster than she had ever run before, down the gravel path, between the graves, through the old iron gate, and back onto the street.

The cab was gone.

Her phone had no signal.

She didn't stop. She kept running until her legs gave out in front of a corner shop. Only then did she slide down onto the sidewalk, gasping for air.

Tears streamed down her cheeks. Not from fear. From helplessness.

What was happening?

Who was watching her?

She looked at the key in her palm again. Locker 72. Grand Central Station. There was something hidden—something someone didn't want her to find.

She forced herself to stand. She needed to get home before Carlo found out.

***

Back at the mansion, the lights were still on. She slipped through the side entrance quietly.

Carlo was in the living room, pacing.

He turned the moment she walked in.

"Jane," he said, storming over to her. "Where the hell have you been?"

She froze.

He looked her over—her messy hair, her dirt-stained knees, her trembling hands—and his anger shifted into worry.

"What happened?" he asked, softer this time.

Jane's lips parted, but nothing came out.

Carlo gently pulled her into his arms. "Talk to me."

"I—I went to meet someone," she whispered against his chest. "The man in the hallway."

Carlo stiffened. "What?"

"He sent a message. Told me to meet him at the cemetery. He had more information about my father…"

Carlo pulled back, his face dark. "You went alone? At midnight?"

She nodded.

He closed his eyes, running a hand through his hair. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?"

"I didn't want to risk anyone stopping me," she said. "He gave me something. Then he was shot. Right in front of me."

Carlo's eyes widened in horror. "What?"

"He died," she whispered, holding out the small key. "But before he did… he gave me this. Locker 72. Grand Central Station."

Carlo took the key and studied it. "This is serious. Whoever killed him didn't want him talking to you. They might come after you next."

Jane's hands trembled. "I think it's Evelyn. And Maxwell. The man said they were tied to my father's death."

Carlo's jaw clenched. "Maxwell…"

He turned away, fists tightening. "That bastard."

"Did you know Evelyn was connected to my mom's friend, Clarissa?" Jane asked. "They were in photos together."

Carlo nodded slowly. "If that's true… then they've known each other a long time. Evelyn might have known your family before we ever met."

"Exactly," Jane said. "Which means this isn't random. Someone planned something—and my father got in the way."

Carlo turned back to her, eyes intense. "We need to open that locker. Tonight."

"But what if we're being followed?" Jane whispered.

Carlo's voice lowered. "Then let them follow. I'm done sitting back while someone tries to destroy the people I care about."

She blinked. *The people I care about?*

"Jane…" Carlo took her hand. "I've kept my distance because I didn't want to scare you. But I care. More than you know. And if anything happened to you tonight…"

He didn't finish.

Jane's throat tightened. She didn't pull away.

She didn't want to.

***

An hour later, they entered Grand Central Station through the underground parking. It was nearly empty at 2:00 a.m.

Carlo had called a trusted driver—one who wouldn't ask questions—and brought two bodyguards just in case.

Jane clutched the locker key tightly, her heart pounding as they made their way down the long hall of storage units. Rows and rows of beige lockers stretched on forever.

She stopped at 72.

Her hand shook as she inserted the key.

Click.

The door creaked open.

Inside was a single black leather journal and a USB flash drive.

Jane reached in and took them carefully. "That's it?"

Carlo took the journal from her and flipped through it. Handwritten notes. Names. Addresses. Transactions. Photos taped inside.

Then he stopped on a page.

Jane leaned in.

Her breath caught.

There was a photo of her father. Carlo's father. And…

Maxwell.

All three shaking hands at a gala.

But the writing below was what sent chills down her spine:

> *"They promised me a silent partnership. But I know Maxwell's lying. If anything happens to me, it was them."*

Jane covered her mouth. "Oh my God."

Carlo's hands tightened around the journal. "He knew."

Jane reached for the USB. "Let's go. We need to see what's on this."

But just as they turned to leave—

A loud bang echoed through the station.

Then another.

Gunshots.

Jane screamed as Carlo pulled her behind a pillar. The guards drew their weapons.

"Someone's here," one whispered. "They followed us."

Carlo grabbed Jane's hand. "Run when I say so."

She shook her head. "No—"

"I said RUN!"

Another shot shattered the locker behind them.

"Now!" Carlo shouted.

They sprinted toward the exit. Jane's legs burned as they ran down the hallway, through the stairs, and up into the empty train platform.

A car was waiting outside.

They dove in.

The driver peeled away as more shots rang out behind them.

Jane was breathless, shaking in the backseat. But her hand still clutched the USB tightly.

"We made it," she gasped.

Carlo nodded, holding the journal against his chest. "But they're not going to stop now."

Jane looked down at the flash drive, then up at him.

"Carlo," she whispered. "What if this… proves Maxwell killed my father?"

Carlo's eyes darkened. "Then I'll destroy him."

Jane's voice trembled. "What if it also proves… he's not done yet?"

Carlo turned sharply to face her.

And before he could answer—

Jane's phone buzzed again.

A new message.

> **"You were warned. You should've stayed away."**

Her blood ran cold.

She stared out the window, her voice barely audible.

"They know where I am."

**To Be Continued…**